The most important full moon of my life.

It’s tonight. Here’s why: 336.

That’s the number of full moons I can expect to see if I live to be the average age for an American male. I run, don’t smoke, and I’m happy, so perhaps my lifespan will be extended. But based on the science and betting averages, I’m looking at 336 more.

I didn’t think of this until yesterday, when I did a little math and came to this rather shocking conclusion. I think that ninety percent of my life is convincing myself I’m not concerned with aging, but I am. It feels like these thoughts have stolen into my writing– two years ago, I wrote this line, and it means a lot to me now.

I’ve lived through 576 full moons. That seems like a lot, until I realize it’s gone by in a blink. My son is nine. I’ve been married for ten years. I have old friends, getting older, and new friends who are younger. We speak of things they can’t have seen, but that are real to me. My stories are a Venn diagram of their life and mine, a common ground made real by shared words over coffee and cheeseburgers.

336 more. I’m not sad– I’m not even really counting. But moonlight has a pressure, however soft, and I feel it.

2 thoughts on “The most important full moon of my life.

  1. Do you think we’ll see the moon, when our days of flesh are done? I know that we won’t need the light of the sun. The moon knows all our secrets and fears. Does the spirit sit on the surface amongst our vials of tears? I’d like to think she’ll be there with us.

    As a woman, society demands I do not deny my age. It demands I am more when I am less. It demands I am less when I am more. I can not forget that my moons are numbered, but I can love and laugh and cry under each one.

    1. That’s beautiful. We played “Claire de Lune” at my nana’s funeral (her favorite piece). I like knowing other people look up, too. 🙂

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